California, here we come, episode 4. In which a Chicago dog bites back.

Among my list-making travel rituals is hunting down fun places to break bread (or cheesecake) with my travel companion.  Although she is not quite as adventurous as I am when it comes to new food experiences, Mari sometimes surprises me with the occasional piece of sushi (Nobu), grilled calamari (the former Ruby Foo's in Times Square), or fried oyster (K-Paul's in New Orleans).  Most of the time, though, we both enjoy revisiting familiar foodie favorites and comfortingly tasty reminders of past journeys.  Little did we know that we would find such a familiar reminder in the familiarly friendly form of an authentic Chicago dog at an authentic Chicago institution.  In California!  I have previously waxed Portillo's poetic (Chicago-Indiana-Michigan, episode 8), so it was a special birthday (still my 5-day-weekend birthday, remember?) treat to come across that comforting combination of Vienna Beef, radioactively emerald green relish, tomatoes, sporty-spice peppers, mustard, and celery salt on a poppy seed bun.  It was also a most satisfyingly welcome relief to two market-weary fleamarketers in bad need of nourishment.  

The Buena Park diner is Portillo's first location outside of Illinois and was just a 10-mile easterly jaunt (a detour in the seemingly wrong direction as we headed back to Santa Barbara if you really must know) on fleamarket Sunday.

Sometimes going 10 miles in the wrong direction can be oh-so-right.

Unfortunately, my favorite chocolate eclair cake did not make it onto the local menu, so I was still birthday cakeless.  I really didn't mind substituting an Italian beef sandwich for dessert, however.

I really didn't.

Back to the calorie-free business of fleamarket finds.  I couldn't pass up one final opportunity to tempt you with a colorful photo safari from our three-hour-tour of the Long Beach Antique Market.

From clothes to phones to photos to furniture refurbished and refinished, found objects galore (that's right, I used "galore") line the longitudinally long and laden rows.  You may not be following Mari with her magically bottomless fleamarket bag like I was when you visit the LBAM, but you will marvel in wonder at the magnitude of this market and the incredible variety of collectibles carefully laid out before you.  This being California, of course, there were some local "specialties" on display as well.  I'm venturing a guess, but the booth below contained some unusual, if not slightly familiar forms of film and television props (God, I hope they were props) and prosthetics.  Before you ask, no, I didn't.  If previous tussles with TSA have taught me anything, it's that attempting to board a plane with a spare arm would definitely cost me some extra time (not to mention an arm and a leg in checked bag fees).

Here are a couple of items we did successfully rescue from the friendly vendors that Sunday morning.  As you all know (and I love) Mari is a vintage jewelry finding fiend.  Fleamarkets are (in)famous for costume jewelry, both new and used, but on this particular Sunday the dearth of typical fleamarket jewelry baubles was overwhelmingly apparent.  The few vendors and former jewelry collectors (hoarders) who did proffer their wares, then, were a welcome sight for Mari's collector's eye.

Here, Mari presents a vintage silver Southwestern-style necklace with naja acquired from a very knowledgeable vendor who happily transferred possession to a long-time admirer of historical American Southwest jewelry.  While no blossoms were squashed here, the traditional and familiar crescent-shaped symbol of protection caught Mari's attention immediately.

Say, wasn't this MY birthday adventure?!

Now that I'm 50, my memory is not what it used to be.  Have I told you that I collect snuff bottles? If not, I collect snuff bottles.  Add it to the limitless list.  I'm not sure why I collect snuff bottles.  It has to do with my love for Asiana, I'm sure, but I don't know how that started, either.  I have just always been a great admirer of Chinese culture and artisan craftsmanship.  We'll explore that another blog time.  Like my hovering parliament of well-traveled owls, there is a shelf of snuff bottles collected from all over that help me re-collect my travels when I have a moment to admire them.

The bottle pictured here is the newest and I fully intend that double meaning.  It certainly doesn't appear to be antique, but I just fell in love with it at first sighting.  It caught my collector's gaze immediately amongst an assemblage of scattered miscellany advertising itself as a five-dollar table.  I couldn't believe my cross-collectible luck!  The five-dollar fortuitous find did present a common collector's dilemma, however. Would it wind up nestled among the snuff bottle collection or merged with its rooster relations (there's a rooster collection) in the kitchen?  Tune in to a future series to have that melodramatic mystery solved.

In the meantime, there is more birthday adventure to explore next time when I finally come on down!